


Down In Brockton Bay

by Zira



Series: A Host of Snippets [4]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series), Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:40:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24023728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zira/pseuds/Zira
Summary: A transformation in the locker brings a new friend and a new lease on life, changing things for the better.
Series: A Host of Snippets [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1573387
Comments: 18
Kudos: 147





	1. Chapter 1

It is hot when Taylor comes to from her fainting spell, and it only gets hotter around her. She can see flames lick around her, burning away at trash and other filth. She can feel something around her, and she… connects. It doesn’t move her from still being stuck in a tiny and filthy space, but she feels that connection and _yanks_. 

There’s a sort of banging and crashing, but she is mostly focusing on how it is so _hot_ , and she’s burning. Another loud crash, and suddenly, she’s free. She feels something grabbing her shoulder, and she lands painfully on the ground, but it is significantly better than the locker. She sits up, rubbing her back, and then looks around. She can see a ton of other students with their phones out, fire still around her and engulfing her locker. 

She stares at the locker, only to be roughly pulled to her feet by a tall figure, who brushes her down, saying, “Well, that’s better.” She stares up at him, his head starts where hers ends. She takes a step back, only to totter unsteadily. He grabs her again, “Easy now! You don’t want to fall, do you?” His voice is so _odd_ , like it’s coming from an old speaker. A sound she’s only ever really heard in recordings of old radios.

“R-right,” she says, looking around. It’s still burning merrily in her locker, and the people are still recording. So she looks at what must be her rescuer, and feels… confused. He’s a tall and fairly thin monstrous cape, with grey skin on his face. His eyes are literally _glowing_ red with an eerie light, with a slight but barely notable shift in shade for the irises and slits for pupils. He has a large smile that almost goes from ear to ear, and it peels back slightly as she stares to reveal sharp, pointed, yellowed teeth.

His hair is also odd in style, with two slight horns protruding among the messy reddish-black hair. His suit and clothes are all varied shades of red and black, with gloves on his hand that look more like skin which end in sharp talons. He is holding an odd staff that has a weird microphone on top, with his suit jacket fluffed out at the ends and at the shoulders. His black shoes are neat, clean — everything about him seems extremely well put together and clean.

“Are you alright, Miss…?” the man says.

She stares at him, “I’m… I’m Taylor.”

“Taylor, hmm?” His smile widens at her, it seems menacing, “Well, I got you out of that danger, and am… willing to help you out more in the future. Do we have a deal?” he puts out his hand, and the fire around them changes from orange and comforting to a dangerous green. Now, she can see that there are a few burned students in the crowd, and one just laying to the side, burned but she can see his chest moving to show he’s still alive.

She stares at the hand, cautionary tales told by her mother running through her head, and does not touch him. “I get the impression you’re not telling me everything, Mr…?”

He drops his hand, returning to his significantly less worrying expression from before, but still clearly dangerous. “Alastor!” he exclaims cheerfully. “And I am at your service if you would like to make a-”

“No deals,” she tells him, looking around. 

The hurt students are still there, and she can actually tell in this light they _are_ being treated by others as best they can. She can hear Alastor mutter softly, “Sometimes, there are girls too smart to get what you need.”

That has her laugh a bit, and she brings a hand to her mouth, only to freeze. Glancing at her hands, she stares at them in confusion. Claws coming out of her fingers, and the impression of paws on her hands but not quite. A glance down at her body has her a little dizzy, but she gets a hold of herself easily enough. She’s taller now, and she’s not sure by how much she is. 

Touching her face has her feeling a smile that she doesn’t have emotionally, teeth sharp and pointed. Moving to her head, her ears are no longer in the position of her head she’s used to, just a bit higher and … longer, fluffier, and if she’s to look in the mirror, she bets they will be downright adorable, if Alastor is anything to base such a feature on. She grabs her hair, and looks at it in confusion. It’s like holding a slightly warm flame in hair form. It’s as black at the flames Alastor changed, but instead of green, she has purple on the ends. 

She wobbles a little, Alastor steadying her, “What… what am I?” A cape, yes, but she doesn't even think she could look human now. Can she? _Does_ she? Her hoodie and baggy clothing hides most of it, except she can see how her feet end in just the barest hint of toes and looks like she’s straining to get not quite on tippy-toe.

Alastor coughs, hand on her shoulder, “That, my dear, is a discussion _not_ meant for prying ears and eyes.” He moves his hand from her shoulder to her waist, tugging her closer in a way that is far too tight and dangerous, and they’re covered in that black and green fire.

The next thing she knows, she’s in her kitchen, the both of them sitting at the table. 

Alastor steeples his fingers, smiling at her, “Let’s talk.”

She stares at him in silence for a few seconds, stands up, and pinches herself. It hurts, but not too horribly. Still, that’s enough to know this isn’t some sort of nightmare. “...fuck.”

Alastor laughs.

\--

In a new change of clothing, Taylor sits in the living room and drinking her tea, Alastor looking very pleased to have his own cup. She stares at him, “So… a demon, you say?”

He nods, “I am, and you look partially that way, as well.”

She forces herself not to touch her face, where the purple in her irises surround a pair of perfectly slitted pupils. She can see in the dark now, and bright lights are not her friends, but she can survive. “I see.” She drinks her tea, gathering her thoughts, it’s mostly instinct, knowing what she can do, but even then it isn’t all that helpful. 

Alastor is his own man… demon… person. He doesn't exactly seem like someone she can control, even if she’s pretty sure she has powers now, and he’s part of it. She can feel the connection between them, but it feels like she’s going through something else. She mentally tugs on it, and he huffs at her cheerfully, saying, “Now, Taylor. We don’t need you to do _that_. We’re friends here, aren’t we? Sitting together in your parlor, drinking tea. You even got me this delightful jerky instead of your cookies!” 

She watches with quiet amusement as he takes a bite out of the dried meat. It’s… endearing, in a way. It makes her want to make some coffee for him, but she has no clue how to even work the coffeemaker, so it will stay off until her father gets home. Maybe she’ll figure something else for him to eat.

“I’m glad you like it,” she says, knowing her own smile is likely rather large at the moment. “Still, you noticed I did that.”

“Yes.” He drinks his own tea, “I think I rather like it here, in fact. I’d much prefer to stay.”

She nods, “I can see why. Hell can’t be that great of a place.”

“I enjoyed it,” he tells her cheerfully. “But still! Being here seems significantly more fun!”

She nods, “Of course. And your plans are?”

He looks a little pained as he opens his mouth to answer, only to snap it shut. “Ah.”

“What is that about?”

Alastor waves a hand, fast and jerky, “It seems I can’t lie. I’m hoping that’s just to you, not to others.”

Humming a little, Taylor smiles a little wider, “We’ll need to test that out.” Setting her empty cup down, she’s about to get up when the door opens, and her father walks in.

He stares at her, then over at Alastor, and says faintly, “Oh… You _did_ change and have powers now.”

She stands up, “Dad! I’m-” She stops talking when another person walks in, making her take a step back, only barely able to keep herself from tipping back into the chair. She’s just not used to how her body moves yet, is all. 

Alastor is almost automatically next to her, helping to steady her, saying, “Careful! We don’t want you hurt.”

She nods, “Right.” She looks at the guest, gathering her wits to say, “I wasn’t expecting you, Assault. Is Battery going to be with you or-”

Alastor starts laughing, “Is that his name?” He sounds incredulous. 

“Yes, it is. He’s a hero, and-” she sighs, just letting him laugh. Turning back to the Protectorate hero, she says, “Do come in.”

Her father moves closer, sitting in his preferred seat, and Assault and Miss Militia move in closer. She stares kind of blankly at Miss Militia, unsure how to feel about this. At least it isn’t Armsmaster; that would be uncomfortably embarrassing.

Focusing more, she stands up straighter, “Do you want any tea? Maybe cookies?”

“No, thank you, we’re on the job,” Miss Militia says, just as Assault says happily, “Yes, please! I’d love cookies and tea!”

She supposes that Miss Militia says no due to her mask, so she nods and heads to the kitchen. She can hear Alastor introduce himself, but it takes next to no time to show up with a teacup on a saucer and a package of cookies. Alastor’s smile is wide as he focuses on Miss Militia, but she turns to Assault. Pouring him a cup of tea from the teapot, she hands it to him, asking, “How many cookies?”

“Oh! Are those are chocolate chip? I’ll take three, thanks.”

She grabs the tongs from the tray and puts three on Assault’s saucer, setting the pack of cookies down. She takes Alastor’s arm, “Stop trying to make deals, Miss Militia won’t accept anyway.”

He laughs brightly, pulling his arm from her grasp, “You never know who will.”

“I’m sure,” she says, pointing at the couch, “Sit down.”

He walks over and sits like he doesn’t have a single care in the world. Taylor totters a little as she moves to sit down, but manages to do it without Alastor annoying her. Relaxing a little, she stares at the heroes, “Now, what all is this visit about?”

“Actually, Taylor,” her father says, “they came to my work to pick me up and drop me off here. One of them was going to stay with me and the other join in the search for you.”

She picks up her spoon, spinning it a little in her fingers, claws retracted, “And you’ve found me. Thank you, dad, I’m glad you’re safe.” She looks at the Protectorate heroes, “Since I’m here, what is it you needed?”

Assault sits up straight, “First off! I’m glad you look okay, but you should get a checkup! We saw what was in the locker, and how you were in there.” He glances at her, his visor kind of glinting slightly in the light, “Surprising you fit.” 

She scowls, a look marred by her constant smile, “I don’t need you to-”

He holds up both hands disarmingly, which is a little ruined by one hand holding a half eaten cookie, and the other holding the saucer with a teacup in it. “Sorry! I just mean you’re really tall! You look like you’re, well, you look like you should join the Wards.”

She makes a face, about to refuse, when Alastor says, flat and unimpressed, “No, I don’t think so. We won’t be dealing with the… ‘teenage drama,’” he even does the finger quotes around the words, “involved in such endeavors.”

Assault looks amused, “I can’t argue tha-”

Miss Militia cuts him off, saying, “There isn’t any of that in the Wards. It is a job, you would just be doing patrols in a safe and controlled manner.”

The idea of being forced to deal with _more_ garbage where no one listens to her has her holding herself, and Alastor pats her a little, “You might want to calm down, you’re setting your chair on fire with your hair.”

“I’m what?” She sits up straight, looking behind her and cursing. Patting out the fire, she frowns at it, “Not even a char. What is going on?”

“If you’d have left it, it would have done damage, but you got it in time,” Alastor tells her, looking pleased.

She kinda wants to punch him in the teeth. Pushing that feeling away, ignoring how Alastor looks annoyed for some reason right after, she stands back up. “I’m not going to the Wards.”

“You’d like it, how about we get you a tour of the PRT Headquarters? You could meet the other heroes, and-”

“No, thank you,” she says firmly, but politely. “I’m fine without.” No matter _how_ tempting it is, she just doesn't want that garbage. She can be a hero on her own.

Alastor makes a face as Assault offers her demon the package of cookies, Assault shrugging at the refusal, using the tongs to pull out three more. Alastor looks at her, then rolls his eyes, jerking a finger at the package. She giggles at that, walking over to him. He looks away, saying, “You have your answer, do you need something else?”

Miss Militia says, “I’ve told everyone what’s going on, and where you are, but you should join the Wards. You’re not safe as an independent. Think of your family.”

Alastor laughs, a little meanly, “Oh, there’s nothing to worry about!” His voice gets a little distorted, “Anyone going after Taylor’s beloved father…” His voice sounds seems to have a squeal going on in the background with more and more static, his eyes turning into what Taylor thinks are radio dials, and his teeth glow yellow dangerously as his entire body flickers slightly, “ _will have bitten off far more than they can chew._ ”

Both heroes and her father stare at Alastor in slight fear, but with the heroes, she can see there’s an undercurrent of readying to fight. To stop that, she says, “As you can see, we’re all perfectly safe here. Thank you for your time. If you want to do something helpful, you can tell Winslow to do something about their bully problem.”

“Oh? What problem?” Miss Militia glances over at Assault, who looks surprisingly serious for a man with half a cookie in his mouth. 

“I’m constantly harassed by the popular kids, and I want it _stopped_. I got shoved into a locker filled with _filth_!”

“Do you have any names?”

She glances at her dad, and is seriously thinking about refusing, when Alastor — looking normal once more — cheerfully interjects, “Of course we do! Madison Clements-” Miss Militia hurriedly pulls out a note, asking how it is spelled, and Alastor continues, “Sophia Hess,” for some reason Assault scowls, “and Emma Barnes!” 

It’s stomach turning, hearing him say the names, and even more when her dad looks… confused and hurt. Thankfully, Miss Militia stands up, saying, “Thank you for this information. I’m going to _personally_ see about getting this fixed.”

“But wait, there’s more!” Alastor says cheerfully, his smile large and worrying. Taylor hides her face as Alastor lists off various people, explaining about what they’ve done, and Taylor wishes she could fall in a hole and die there.

… Can she die? Alastor said she’s part demon, so maybe not? Yes, she knows this is a silly train of thought, but anything is better than hearing Alastor list those who’ve wronged her. Including the teachers, secretaries, and various other staff, up to and including Blackwell. 

She stares at her hands, and extends and retracts her claws. They don’t feel like they belong to her, but they also feel very natural. It’s the same with her legs, long, silky, ending in a way that she is walking on the ball of her foot, only a small indication of toes that are more a close collection of rounded nubs, and barely any heel. However, if she focuses on them, she can extend claws out of them, too. She knows her sense of taste is different, too. Her tongue is odd, and perhaps even her nose, but she doesn’t know. 

Sweet flavors aren’t exactly _sweet_ , and her cookies taste so flat. She just doesn’t know what to think about it. She-

“And that is all,” Alastor says. He pats Taylor on her back, “Now, you best keep up our end of the bargain.” He walks over to Miss Militia, smile widening slightly, as he offers a hand, “Care to shake on it, madame?”

Miss Militia starts to extend her hand, only for Taylor to stalk over and slap it down, “Stop that! No making a deal! No! Bad demon! Bad!”

Alastor huffs, “I just want to be certain the problems will be solved. I would like to see what schooling is like in this decade.”

“I’m not going back to fucking Winslow,” she informs him.

“Miss Hebert, you do need to go to school, as normally as you can,” Miss Militia informs her. “If it gets too bad, just tell us, and we’ll set something up.”

“We’ll see,” she says, frowning as much as she can, which is not at all. The most she can muster is mouth closed and an upturned small smile. 

“Perhaps you could get her into Arcadia?” Alastor says, leaning on his cane. “We’ve heard good things about that school.”

“If you join the Wards, you can get any school you want,” Assault says cheerfully.

“We’ll think on it,” her father says, standing up. “Could you two leave? It’s been a… busy day, and now I need to have a talk with my daughter.”

“Of course!” Assault says, “Just remember to call us on that number on the business card we gave you.”

“Yes, thank you,” her father says, escorting the heroes outside, and saying goodbye. When he comes back, he says, “Taylor! Why didn’t you tell me about Emma? How did this-”

“Say!” Alastor cheerfully interrupts. “How about I make some food? I have this _delightful_ recipe for étouffée. Come on, let’s get that ready.” He grabs Taylor’s arm, leading her to the kitchen, “You’re going to love it!”

Taylor is too grateful to get out of an uncomfortable conversation to be upset at being turned into a second rate sous chef for a meal she doesn’t know how to make.


	2. School and An Errand; Down In Brockton Bay [AU, Crossover, Altpower]

Taylor stares down at her new class schedule, tilting her head, “What is this? I don’t know what my homeroom is, so I don’t… Ugh.”

Alastor hums next to her, sounding cheerful in his radio tuning tones. As long as it isn’t static and feedback, she doesn’t care about it at this point. A week of him being near her does that. He stops when the door opens, and a blonde boy walks in. She furrows her brow, trying to figure out why he looks so familiar, only for him to hold out his hand, saying, “Hi, I’m Dean.”

She grabs his hand before Alastor can try, responding hurriedly, “Taylor!” Alastor just rolls his eyes at her, clearly amused. She isn’t even sure if he can do anything without making a deal, but better safe than sorry, in her opinion.

“I was told to help you figure out how to get around? I’m even supposed to show you where each of your classes are, and your locker?”

She blinks, “Oh, is that normal?”

“I haven’t done this before, so I couldn’t tell you. Not many transfers like this.”

Alastor looks Dean over, leaning down in a way she’s sure he knows is intimidating and insulting to the one he’s doing it to. “And you would know how to show us where we’re going?”

Dean looks at Alastor, clearly unnerved, “I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t certain.”

“Wonderful!” he exclaims, standing straight. “Show us the way.”

Taylor walks after Dean, Alastor whistling next to them as they go through the halls. Dean pointing out various things, and explaining how best to get from one place to another. They end at her locker, “And here you are,” Dean tells her. “Anything else before I go? Because I’m certain you can find your current class.”

“No, I don’t,” she says, putting her locker combination in, and opening it. 

“I would like to know if those desks can even fit me,” Alastor says.

“I… I wouldn’t know. I’m sorry.” Dean frowns in thought, “I imagine they do, if only because they would have to know you were coming.”

Taylor sighs, pulling leaving only the books she needs in her backpack, the rest put away carefully. “Let's hope they do. I don’t want to think about what kind of mischief you’d get up to without being able to pay attention in class.” Not that she has high hopes. Alastor is way more likely to actively attempt to unsettle the teacher than anything.

She pushes a notebook into his hands, saying, “Do you have your pencils?”

He pats his jacket pocket, “Right here!”

“And you got rid of the flask?”

Alastor looks annoyed, but says, “Left at home. No drinking on school property.”

She nods, “Good.” Turning to their guide, she says, actually smiling because she wants to, even if she knows it can look unsettling, “Thank you for the help, Dean. I’ll see how I feel about the invite to eat at your lunch table when it is lunch.”

“We’d be happy to have you.”

“Thank you,” she repeats.

“You’re welcome,” he says, walking away.

“Well,” Alastor says, sounding a little catty, “isn’t he the good little knight in shining armor?”

She snorts, “Come on, Al. Let’s get to class.” Dean is just being nice since anyone stupid enough to be rude to anyone with visible powers ends up dead in Brockton Bay.

He follows her easily, saying, “I think I’m most interested in this class on computer programming. It sounds interesting.”

“I am, too. In my last school, it was my favorite class.” She just hopes it holds here, too. Yes, there’s a very strict anti-bullying policy, but she’s seen that overlooked so many times, it isn’t even worth having faith in it.

She peeks her head into her first class of the day, English, and takes a breath to steady herself before she walks in. Alastor follows after her, looking around curiously, his smile wider than usual. The teacher says, “Ah! Miss Hebert! It’s good to have you join us. Please go to the two seats right there,” he points at a pair of desks next to each other. “We’re about to turn in the homework.”

She nods, pointing to the desk on the left, “There, Alastor.” 

Thankfully, he doesn’t argue, just moving to sit there as she goes to the other one. When the papers are passed forward, Alastor mimics her easily to keep them going, and then opens his notebook just like she’s doing. She’s just glad that he isn’t talking about how pleased he is about not needing to use a slate and memorize everything. That is a problem long solved, and involved him talking about it last week. If she’s honest, past schooling sounds like a nightmare, and she’s glad she’s not in it.

English is… English. Nothing she doesn’t already know, but she doesn’t actually have high hopes for her other classes, since she doubts she’ll be as caught up to them, even if she has all the placement tests passed. She knows she wouldn’t be here otherwise. 

Unless the PRT is pulling strings to get her in, which isn’t surprising if true. 

When they get to the assignment, the teacher looks uncertain if he should give Alastor a sheet of paper or not, but ends up doing so anyway. Which is probably a lost cause, since the demon mostly just scribbles on the sheet, clearly bored. She’s not sure what he’s expecting from school, since it is always pretty boring when she’s not being actively mocked. 

She’s glad when class is over, but clearly not as much as Alastor is, since he gets up as fast as possible, and grabs her, hurrying her out the door. “You do this every day, you said?”

“Every weekday,” she corrects. At his tired look, she elaborates, knowing he doesn’t actually need her to, “Monday through Friday.”

He hums, “Well, what’s the next class?” He snags the paper from her, “What’s shop?”

“Woodworking.”

He tilts his head, “They let girls do that now?”

“I’m not fucking taking home ec, Alastor!” she snaps angrily.

He laughs, a surprisingly happy sound, “Fantastic! Let’s go make ourselves a table!”

“I severely doubt that will at all be a class project.”

He grabs her around the waist, pulling her along, “Oh, I don’t know about that! Surely we can talk to the teacher about that! I'm a perfectly reasonable adult in my own right, you know.”

“Like hell you are,” she mutters, but keeping pace with him.

“What’s that?”

“Like hell you are,” she says again, louder.

He laughs again, but doesn’t respond. She sighs, but can only hope nothing goes wrong. The idea of him using power tools is… worrying.

\--

Alastor lounges next to her as Taylor sits at the table where Dean is. She pokes at her food, saying softly, “At least you’re behaving.”

“Of course I am, it’s only your first day at school.”

Dean smiles at them, “Is there a reason you’re saying he’s behaving?” He eyes where Alastor is playing cat’s cradle, “And aren’t you hungry?”

“He’s a demon,” she says flatly. “We’re both demons. Well, I’m… half demon, maybe? I don’t exactly know.”

“And I’m not hungry because all of your food here is disgusting,” Alastor says plainly.

Taylor sighs, poking at the pizza, “It’s weird tasting now. All food is weird.” She still doesn't know _why_ nothing is sweet anymore. “Tomorrow, we can bring food from home.”

“Good.” Alastor pokes her food, making the tomato sauce splurt out, “How much sugar is in this, anyway?”

“From what I can taste, none,” she says completely honestly, while also lying by omission.

“Oh, how I envy that,” Alastor says with far more honesty than her.

There’s a cough from behind her, and she turns to stare blankly at a blonde girl with a shorter brunette next to her. Dean says cheerfully, “This is my girlfriend Vicky and her sister Amy!”

“Oh, hello,” she says, waving a hand.

Alastor reaches over, shaking Vicky’s hand, “Good to meet you, my dear!” He switches to Amy, the girl blinking owlishly at him, “And you, too!”

Vicky blinks at him, “Uh… hello.” She sits down next to Dean, Amy moving to her other side. “So, do you _always_ sound like that?”

“Like what?” he asks, smiling even wider, his voice even more distorted than usual.

Pushing him lightly to make him stop, Taylor says, “Oh, stop that.” She turns to Vicky, “Yes.” Not always, but she severely doubts that anyone here will ever get to hear or notice it when he’s relaxing. School is never a relaxing environment. 

“What did you mean by being unable to taste sweet?” Amy asks bluntly.

She blinks, “Uh, well, when I first-”

Alastor interrupts, “Do cheer up, dear!” He reaches over, using thumb and forefinger to move Amy’s mouth, “Smile! You’re always underdressed without one!”

If anything, when Alastor’s hand moves away, Amy looks even more unhappy. “Don’t touch me,” she snaps.

Laughing a little nervously, Taylor restarts, “When I first changed to this,” she waves to how she looks now, “I lost a large portion of my sense of taste. I can still taste things, but everything is weird. No sweetness at all.”

Amy extends her hand, “May I?”

“What?” Alastor and her ask at the same time.

Dean says, sounding nervous, “Ah, I’d thought you realized. My girlfriend is Glory Girl, and Amy is Panacea.”

Alastor looks at Amy curiously, but Taylor says, “Oh! Of course!” 

She puts her hand in Amy’s, who looks confused and unhappy, “I can only _barely_ get a read on you.” She frowns heavily, “It… looks like you don’t have the right taste receptors for sweet? A lot like a cat?” Amy looks at her, “And why do you have a tail?”

Pulling away, she huffs softly, “I don’t see what’s wrong with my tail. Alastor has a tail.”

He pats her on the head, “Don’t tell people about that, Taylor. If anyone tries to touch me, I’ll cut off their hands.” He laughs cheerfully, making the others at the table think he’s joking, but Taylor is damned sure he’s serious.

She’s not going to break their innocence of it. 

She sighs, pushing the pizza away, “Anyway, it looks like there’s no point in cake for me. Or anything with any sugar.” She looks at it longingly, “I’ll miss you, pizza.”

“You know, the only reason this pizza tastes weird to you,” Vicky says, “is because of the corn syrup used in the sauce and crust. If you make your own, you should be just fine. Get a pizza stone for a crispy crust.”

“I can do that,” Alastor says cheerfully. “I know just the thing!”

“We’ll need to make a smaller one just for dad. None of those weird peppers you used.” She’s not even sure how he got any, since they certainly never bought them. When he has them, they all look weird, too.

He waves a hand dismissively, “He was fine.”

She gets the impression _she_ is going to need to make her father’s pizza, since Alastor absolutely will not change how he’s making anything. Especially since he sometimes comments about needing certain kinds of meats. She has a creeping feeling she won’t be happy if she finds out what kind it is.

“We’ll just… set aside some of the tomato sauce and some of the crust dough,” she says tiredly.

“Why the dough?” Vicky asks, looking curious.

“Some of the seasoning Alastor uses will burn off dad’s stomach lining. I’d prefer that not happening.”

Amy looks curious, “Well, I look forward to seeing what you bring to lunch tomorrow.” 

She watches them eat despondently, but just nods in response. Alastor stands up, “Well, since we won’t be eating today, I think we can head off to get ready to go to the next class.”

Taylor stands up, taking her tray, and dumping it in the trash before heading out of the cafeteria with Alastor. Shouldering her bag, she walks with him, “So, what is it you wanted to talk about, away from prying ears?” Especially since she knows he’s enjoying the kids’ suffering going on around them.

“Are you _sure_ I can't bring a bottle of whiskey with me tomorrow?”

“No alcohol allowed on school property. Just like with smoking.” 

He hums thoughtfully, walking with her, then says, “You said that the students in your previous school did.”

“Yeah, but they didn’t actually give a fuck in my previous school. You’re just going to have to live with it, Alastor. Unless you have a better way of hiding it or something.” She can’t see how he can hide whiskey, though. They don’t let people drink anything that easily mixes with it and hides it, anyway. Like Coca-Cola or Pepsi or whatever. 

Alastor nods, walking with her, “I’ll think of something.”

“You do that,” she tells him, not believing him. 

\--

Later that day, Taylor walks through the mall, Alastor looking around curiously as she makes her way to the shoe store. He says, “So, what is it you’re looking for?”

“There are those, uh, high heeled gym shoes that just came in. I got the message on my email, remember?”

“I still find it odd that they have you enrolled in… physical education, _and_ that you need special shoes just to run around.”

“You’re going to need to wear that outfit for gym we got you, too, you know.” 

He shakes his head, laughing, “Oh no, I’m not wearing those shorts and that shirt. They’re very undignified.”

“It’s a uniform, and you’re going to have to. For all that we’re brutes,” she lets him make a noise of disgust at the name, “that only gets us out of group activities where we’re going to be competing with others. Not running or general exercise.”

He makes another sound of disgust, but she ignores him, just heading into the shoe store. She instantly goes straight to the gym shoe section, and pulls down the larger sizes of the ones she wants. Sitting down, she tugs off one of the high heels she’s wearing, and puts on one of these to try it on. 

Alastor inspects the various shoes, looking unimpressed, but doesn’t argue when she holds out a hand to have him help her stand up. She looks at her foot in the shoe mirror, humming, “I guess this is fine.”

“I’m just surprised you don’t need custom shoes,” he says, leaning over to look them over.

“I have just enough of what amounts to a heel that they work. Kinda. I’m just glad some people are genuinely _this_ vain. If they weren’t, I’d need to figure something else out for the shoes.” 

“They’re ugly,” he says flatly.

“Oh, they really are,” she agrees, taking it off, and dropping it into the box before slipping her shoe back on, leaning lightly on him. “Come on, let’s get these paid for, and then we can go to the connected Target and we can see what foods you’d like to try.”

“Sounds good,” he says, walking beside her absently, and she has to grab his arm when he looks over at something to the side. “Do let me go, I was just-”

“No traumatizing the normies,” she says flatly, realizing he’s likely wanting to hurt the man who is clearly just staring at them. “I want to pay for this before they kick us out.”

“What do you mean kick us out?” He smiles menacingly at the staring man, who shudders and hurries away.

“I’m damn sure you know what I mean, don’t play dumb.” She drops the shoes on the counter, letting the cashier ring it up, and she pays for it, mentally wincing at the price. 

When it is bagged up, she walks out, Alastor following her easily. He says, “So, what are we going to be buying at the shops?”

“I mostly want you to check out the drink aisles. I’m sure you’ll figure out what you want from it.”

He perks up, “Oh! Whiskey!”

“We’re not buying alcohol,” she informs him, wondering if this is what it will be like when she’s in college. She doesn’t want to deal with someone getting drunk all the time.

“You just say that because legally, you’re not old enough. I am, though. I’m over a hundred years old, Taylor.”

She sighs at him, “Yeah, well, you don’t have a legal ID, so good luck with that.”

He looks confused, only to tilt his head, and nod, “I see, I’ll need to have my picture taken and get one of those drivers licenses or a legal identification card.”

“It’s weird how you know that, but call movies picture shows.”

“Ah, but that’s because I figure things out from here!” He pokes her sharply in the head, making her glare at him. “I get to figure out what is going on due to you knowing it!”

“That… explains a lot.” She groans, rubbing her face, “I should have fucking figured that out when you told the heroes about the trio.”

He just laughs loudly, and she ignores him as they walk into the Target. It isn’t actually her first choice for groceries, but it is in the mall. She grabs a cart, drops her shoes in it, and starts pushing. Alastor walks beside her, looking amused as he looks around. When they get to the drinks, he pokes at some of the containers, saying, “I don’t have any interest in the fizzy sugar water.”

She gestures at the flavored water, “Yeah, but there’s carbonated water without any added sugar.” She grabs the raspberry flavored Canada Dry sparkling water. “Here, read the ingredients.” 

He takes it easily, “You know, I’m glad that there are laws that force companies to say what is inside of the things they make now. Even if it is impossible to find that cough medicine I liked.”

She sighs, “From what you said about that, it was full of heroin. That’s illegal now, since it’s so addictive.”

“Well, I could see how those weak of mind can get addicted,” he laughs, setting lime flavored sparkling water in the cart before looking through others. “Oh! Tonic water! Perfect for malaria.”

She watches him put several in the cart, “Is it? Not much use here in Brockton Bay. Do you like what it tastes like, at least?”

“I do,” he informs her, looking at a few other bottles. “I saw several students with bottles. Are we allowed to bring our own?”

“Yeah, if you want. I don’t mind. Just grab the smaller ones, and we can refill from the water fountains when we run out.”

He puts the tonic water in the cart, “I think we’re done!”

“I also wanted you to see the peppers. We can buy a few, and you can see what the modern ones are like, making your choice on what ones you like best and we can buy more later.”

He perks up, following happily as she leads him to the produce section. He wanders off, looking interested.

She heads straight to the peppers, but doesn’t argue when he brings over grapefruit, just saying, “Put them in the bag there,” pointing at the holder. He looks pleased, and wanders off again, coming back with persimmons, and she blinks at them, “Uh… If I remember right, those are sweet?”

He looks disappointed, “The ones I’m used to aren’t.”

She shrugs, “Well, we can get those, and if we don’t like them, dad will eat them.” She tugs him over before he can go find more things to fill up the cart with, “Come on, one of each of these,” and gestures to the peppers. 

Before long, they’re done, and checking out. The poor cashier looks incredibly nervous as Alastor looms over him, but Taylor pays quickly, and they leave the mall easily enough. She starts to head to the bus stop, only for Alastor to put his hand on her shoulder, “Now, going on that bus to here was more than enough. Let’s just… go back home, hmm?”

“What are you talking-” She yelps as he drags her close, and the next thing she knows, they’re back in the house. “Fuck!” She sighs, stamping out the fire, “Right. Look, next time you do that, let’s land in the backyard, okay?”

“If that’s what you wish,” he says cheerfully, carrying the food to the kitchen.

She sighs, and heads in to help him put it away properly.


	3. Lunch, Gym, A New Hobby

Taylor easily chews on her lunch, looking at Amy curiously as the girl pokes at the single spoonful of it she’s given her. “Something wrong?”

Amy looks at her flatly, “How are you not burning your tongue off?”

“What do you mean?” she asks, pretending not to understand.

“Vicky,” Amy says, “open your mouth.”

“Ames, no. I don’t-” Vicky yelps as Amy pushes a small portion of the spoonful into her sister’s mouth, making the poor girl sputter and grab for milk. Amy then grabs Vicky’s hand, likely stopping her from feeling the heat. Vicky gives Amy a mournful look, “Why couldn’t you do that yourself?”

“Because I’d automatically change the bacteria in my mouth to stop making me taste hot, and won’t give the same sort of demonstration.”

“You don’t _have_ to do that,” Alastor informs her, drinking his tonic water. “We could have watched you eaten demon food and you dealing with it.”

“I’m not doing that,” Amy says flatly, arms going up to ward away Alastor’s hands when he’s clearly intending on trying to force her to smile again in retaliation to her refusing. “Taylor, call him off.”

“I don’t control him,” she reminds the girl. “He mostly follows me around and helps me out.”

“Your projection is weird,” Dean informs her, looking at Alastor with a moue of a frown, head tilting ever so slightly.

“I’m not one!” Alastor insists. Taylor really doesn't know if that’s true or not, but she’s inclined to believe it, if only because she’s pretty sure that projections follow the Master’s directions. Alastor doesn’t follow any damned orders she gives, just laughing at her when she tries. “I’m a demon.”

Vicky sulkily eats her salad, muttering, “I don’t like spicy food.”

A person she is pretty sure is in one of her previous classes sits at the table, putting his tray down, “Dean, I need to know what you got on five for the math homework.”

Dean digs through his backpack, “Lemme look. Also, Taylor and Alastor, this is Dennis. Dennis, this is Taylor and Alastor.” He waves a hand in their general direction as he introduces them.

“Yeah, they’re in my morning history class. Kinda hard not to realize who they are,” Dennis smiles at them, “Especially since they’re both so cheerful.”

“My face is stuck like this,” she informs him, curious how he’ll react. “In fact, it is incredibly difficult not to smile.”

He blinks at her, “Well, that sounds odd, but it seems to help intimidate people. Alastor, you were doing that looming smile thing at Justin, right?”

“Was that his name?” Alastor asks. “I didn’t realize. At least now he’ll keep his filthy hands off of me and Taylor.”

“Seeing as how he accidentally tripped and was flailing his arms,” she says dryly, “it certainly wasn’t his fault.” She chews on a large piece of shrimp in her food, “That’s why I stopped you from doing more than staring at him.”

“Back in Hell, I’d have gutted him,” he says cheerfully, stealing a spoonful of her food. She hisses at him when he goes for another, and he laughs.

Dennis stands up, moving away from her and Alastor, “So, Dean, the answer?”

“2a plus 3x,” he says quickly.

“Thanks, I’ll leave you to your table drama. Bye!” With that, Dennis rushes away for some reason.

“What’s his problem?” she asks, staring after him.

Vicky blinks at her, “Uh, you’re kinda… scary.”

She looks at Vicky, tilting her head, not realizing Alastor is mirroring her as she says, “What do you mean?”

“Can you not… do _that_?” Dean asks, looking pained.

“What do you mean?” she repeats, feeling more confused. 

Alastor pats her on the back, chuckling, “Oh nothing, my dear. They’re just… not used to how demons act, is all.”

Amy says something too distorted by the food in her mouth to be understandable. Taylor sighs, asking, “Could you repeat that?” Amy stares her in the eyes, shoves more food in her mouth, and says in an even more unintelligible manner something that Taylor sounds… a little mocking and challenging. If the tone obscured by food is anything to go by. 

She’s not sure if it is even the same thing that Amy said at first, so she just… smiles a little wider. She’s not willing to push, just in case Amy decides to start yelling after shoving _more_ food in her mouth. No one wants to see that.

She tries to get more of her own food, only to shout, “Hey!” when it turns out she’s missing far more of it than she should be. 

Alastor grins at her, “Yes, my dear?”

Taylor snags his food, and scrapes some of it back into her own bowl, “Get your own damned food, you dickhead.”

“Oh, Taylor, you say such _charming_ things.”

She hisses at him again, which only makes him laugh. She kind of wonders if that’s why he’s doing this in the first place. It’s likely, since all he’s really doing is staying around for cheap entertainment. At least, that’s what she can tell.

\--

The only good thing about gym, is that no one is grinding her down in it. That and Alastor’s clear distaste for being forced into gym clothing. He doesn’t stop smiling, but it is amazingly clear he also isn’t happy. He keeps pace with her as they run laps, since everyone else is playing basketball. Alastor says to her, “Why are we doing this at all? It isn’t like we gain anything from it And your teacher said I didn’t _have_ to wear this.”

“If I gotta look this dumb, so do you.”

He shakes his head, “I don’t see why I must join you in this endeavor. I’m fine just sitting to the side, not doing… this.”

“Yeah, I know you’ll just yell and mock people if you did that.”

“Me? I’d _never_ , Taylor. Must you think so lowly of me?”

“Don’t you fucking lie to me.”

He huffs, “I wouldn’t mock _you_ for it.”

“You said people.”

“You’re the only person here, Taylor.”

Which just shows he’s very good at twisting how he thinks so he isn’t lying to her, like he’s not supposed to be able to be. At least, he can't lie to her. He can lie to her father, from the little testing they’ve done.

She sighs, “Whatever. Come on, one more lap, and then we can go do whatever.” Running a mile is significantly easier now, and she is incredibly pleased at that fact. Of course, the amount they need to run may just be changed later on, but until then, she’ll take what she can get.

She’s still glad when gym is over, and they’re dressed in normal clothing. Even more that it is the last class of the day, and they can just head _home_. She starts walking to the bus, only for alastor to say, “Must we take that… filthy vehicle?”

“Alastor, you didn’t complain yesterday. Why now?” He might not enjoy the bus, but it isn’t like it is the end of the world to get on. She’d prefer they not need to pay full fare for him, but it isn’t like it’s a huge deal.

“You said we needed to take the bus to get to the mall, and it wasn’t worth it when I didn’t know where that was. But home? That’s easy!” He doesn’t wait for her to respond, just grabbing her, close, and they’re now in the backyard. 

She curses, stamping out the fire, “Okay, right. Yeah.” She takes a deep breath, “Right. I think we’re going to need to make sure there’s a dead spot back here so that the fire from this doesn’t spread, but I’m okay with doing this instead of using the bus.”

“Wonderful!” Alastor says cheerfully, walking to the house. “This is a far better use of our time! We can even use it to get to school when we must go!”

Rolling her eyes, she follows him in.

\--

Taylor is doing her homework as Alastor is browsing the internet. The main saving grace in her opinion is that the idea of looking at porn has him so disinterested, her father is no longer even thinking about threatening to turn off the internet at night. Sure her computer is slow, but it can load up videos easily enough, even if it isn’t able to stream anything.

Alastor grabs her by the shoulder, shaking her a little, “Taylor! On the pictures! Look!”

She glances over, and blinks, “Oh, Leet and Uber. What about them?”

“I was asking around on that PHO place, and they suggested them! I think we should do this!”

She blinks, “Ah… I’m not sure we can? We’d need a better computer, a video camera, and-”

She sighs as he manifests an old timey camera, what looks like what a desktop computer might look like from the thirties, and holds out his own microphone cane, all as if to submit them to her inspection. “Here we go!”

She looks it over, putting her homework to the side, “Let’s see how they work, okay? If they work, fine, we’ll use this. They don’t seem like they will, but let’s see.”

She helps him connect everything up, trying not to feel too tired as he just makes cords to fit as they go. It is eventually all put together, even if she’s not exactly sure where the actual computer tower is, since the computer seems to be _just_ a monitor. But it boots up and works, so she just assumes that whatever is going on makes sense in some other dimension or something. 

She even gets behind the camera to film Alastor doing some test shots. Pretty much just him standing in her room and talking, but it is enough for them to hook it up, and get it loaded on. SHe still has no clue how it works, but Alastor seems pleased. He pokes and prods it, asking, “And how do we get it onto the interconnected netting?”

“You know it is called the internet,” she says, but sits down next to him. “We’ll want to sign up for a youtube channel, so that we can upload it on there. But before we can do that, we need to edit anything you’re putting up so it is watchable. As bad at what they’re actually doing, Uber’s editing is very good. That’s _why_ they have so many people watching them. I severely doubt the tinkertech that gets destroyed happens with even a fraction of the comedic timing they have in the videos.”

“Show me,” Alastor says cheerfully.

She hums, thinking about it, “You watched some movies with us, so you likely realized that some were just… not good? Even with okay writing and some funny parts, right?”

“Yes! That was very common in Hell, too!”

“Yeah, well, editing can change something boring into something very good. I imagine you want a more serious tone? Or at least not humorous, but- oh!” She pulls up a single video, “Okay, so this is one that was a meme for awhile.” 

She is glad that for as old timey as the new computer looks, it still has perfect color for it, since it means showing him what she wants to demonstrate will make it far easier. 

They watch the original video, and she shows him the various edits others have done where it goes from just kind of sad slapstick to romantic comedy, action, and horror. She sits up a little, “See? That’s the power of editing.”

“I saw it also took the correct sounds, as well.” Alastor looks at her, “And how do we edit things?”

“We need a computer program for that. Here, let me pull up some guides.” She shows him various tutorials, and how the various programs work. “But since this is clearly a computer of your own make, you could probably make one on here that fits best? Like a drag and drop thing.” She goes on, explaining more as he watches. She pauses, about halfway through explaining how she’d like an editing program to work, looking down, “But, uh, I guess you’d already know all this. Since you can get it all from my head, and-”

“No, no! This is more fun!” He pats her back, “It’s wonderful to have you talk about something you’re enjoying! Go on, go on.” He waves a hand, the other tucked under his chin as he watches her, rapt.

Perking up, she explains how she’ll do things, and wraps around to, “And I think it would be nice to be able to put it on, like, a tablet? So I could have a portable version, and as we film, it’s hooked up to the camera, so it can all be transferred and edited as we go. It’ll just be the two of us, right?”

“Right,” he agrees, sounding pleased.

“So if we can do it outdoors, and not be tethered to the house, it would work way faster when we’re out and about. Maybe spend some time in a coffee shop. I think you’d enjoy trying different blends of coffee.”

“I would. What’s a tablet, though?”

She eagerly goes online, showing all the various ones she likes, mostly since they have games on them. She ends up showing lots of those games to Alastor, too, since it’s clear how much he’s enjoying how excited Taylor is. He studies the pictures as she explains things like art programs, too, showing clips of videos where art demonstrates various points.

She ends up pulling up an older notebook, it has her doodles in it of various heroes and of her possible hero costumes. None will actually work for her now, of course, but she shows them off anyway. Her favorite is the one modeled after Alexandria, of course, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t happy to let him see them. Especially since he isn’t insulting about it. 

Alastor leafs through her notebooks, “This could be interesting. So you need a tablet and a stylus?”

She nods, “Yeah! It could be so much fun, and we could use a smaller camera, maybe things both of us can hold, or-”

He manifests what looks like a chalkboard slate, but when she presses her fingers to it, it lights up, a pair of eyes looking at her curiously from the top only for it to watch as she messes with the tablet. He pulls a comfortably pencil sized stylus out of it, and presses it into her hand, and she laughs as she pulls up an art program, drawing a rough head shape. 

“And how does it work?” he asks, smile even wider, clearly pleased with himself, and rightly so.

“Perfectly!” she exclaims excitedly, and hugs him.

Alastor freezes a little, but relaxes enough to pat her on the back, “I’m glad you like it, my dear. Why don’t we head out and go film some things?”

She pulls away, laughing a little, “Okay!” Standing up, she offers her hand to help him, and he takes it without pause. He puts his hand on her shoulder, snapping his other hand to make the camera walk on it’s tripod and follow them. 

This is going to be so much fun!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm almost violently tired. Awhile ago I had to do errands that wiped me out, then an emergency popped up forcing me to do more when it was all I could do to even leave my bed, and I'm still recovering from it :C 
> 
> Chronic pain sucks and I'm not doing well.


	4. In Front Of The Camera, At Home With Dad, Hello Alastor

Taylor adjusts how the camera is settling in the snow, and hits record. Giving Alastor a thumbs up, she signals he can start.

He stands in front of a winter dead tree, sinking slightly into the wet ground, snow up to his ankles. Staring at her, he hums softly, “You know, Taylor, I'm not exactly certain what to even talk about. Do you have any topics?”

“Well, um, you could talk about being a demon?” she offers. She’s not sure, herself, but he seemed excited to do this in the first place, and now she’s excited, too. It’s just… she also isn’t sure where to even start. “We can ramble about whatever you want, really. It isn’t like we need to keep what we do here, just get ourselves ready.”

Alator stares up and to the left, looking thoughtful, “A good point. I am just not used to being on a picture show. Typically, I’m just a voice on the other side of the radio!”

She laughs a bit, nodding, waving a hand to keep him talking. Only to yelp in surprise as he strides over, pulling her in front of the camera, “Alastor! What are you _doing_?”

“We both should be here, my dear. Give us something to play off of.”

She straightens up, feeling a little uncomfortable, “Ah, well, okay.” She looks at the camera, waving a little nervously, “I”m Taylor, and-” She taps her teeth with a claw, “Should we be using real names? If we’re on the internet, we should have fake names to us, just like if we’re going to be capes.”

“Why should we do that? We’re fine how we are! Prove it to the ages how we don’t need to keep ourselves a secret!” He waves his arms grandly, as if showing off an amazing future.

“Like New Wave?”

“Who?” His arms drop, and he looks at her in confusion.

“How the hell don’t you know who New Wave is, Alastor?” She puts her hand on her face, shaking her head. “We sit with them during lunch. You know, Glory Girl and Panacea?”

He tilts his head, and she sighs, waiting for him to finish fishing inside her head for the information, “Oh! Those two! The girl who keeps trying to make others like her with that emotion aura, and the weak one who doesn’t know how to smile!”

“Alastor!” Taylor yells, throwing her arms up, “Panacea isn’t weak! She’s great! She’s the best healer there is!”

“Is she?”

She groans, “Yes, she is. She is one of the few people who can cure cancer.”

This time he tilts his head the other way, and she crosses her arms, waiting on him. He snaps his fingers, and suddenly there’s a chair under her, and she falls into it awkwardly, one leg hanging off the side, and her arms a mess above her head. She resituates herself, sitting herself as comfortably as she can, and crosses her arms at him.

He grins at her, “What do you call the medical condition where your feet fall asleep?”

“Uh, I… I don’t know?” What is this about? 

“Coma-toes!” He grims at her brightly, clearly pleased with himself.

“Oh no,” she whispers.

“Not good enough, how about this? Do you know why you can’t trust atoms?”

“Are you doing dad jokes, Alastor?”

“They make up everything!”

She stares at him, and flops back in her seat, “Are you going to keep doing this?”

His grin widens and he leans forward, “What has two butts and kills things!”

Sighing, Taylor says in a tired voice, “What, Alastor?”

“An assassin!” He laughs in clear pleasure, “What’s the best part about living in Switzerland?”

“Why?” she asks, voice plaintive.

“I don’t know, but the flag is a big plus!”

“Oh fuck,” she whispers. “I’m going to need to edit these with art, aren’t I?”

“What do you call someone with no body and no nose?” 

She whimpers, hiding her face in her hands, “I don’t know.”

“Nobody knows!” She can hear movement coming from him, but she ignores it. “Did you know I’m named after Thomas Jefferson?”

“Your name is Alastor,” she says, clearly pained, even if it must be muffled through her hands.

“Yes, but he died before I was born! I was clearly named long after!” He cackles excitedly, then more cajolingly, “Oh, Taylor.”

She peeks at him through her fingers, “Yes?”

“What do you call a deer with no eyes?” 

She winces as she watches him illustrates that by making it look like his eyes are just pure red, “Wh-what?”

Abruptly, his eyes return, and he throws his arms out, “I have no i-dear!”

She whimpers softly, “Oh no.”

“Oh yes! How about another? I have it! What is-” 

There’s a cough off to the side, and they turn to look. It is likely out of the camera shot, but Velocity waves at them. “Hello, you two.” He walks closer, and yelps when Alastor makes a seat, which then carries Velocity to sit between them, “Uh….”

“Hello, hello!” Alastor says cheerfully, “Are you here because you wanted to join our moving picture show?”

“Your what?”

Taylor leans over, lightly patting the man on the arm, “Alastor watched youtube, and now we’re going to be putting some videos up.”

“Is that the reason you’re both sitting in a snowy park with just a light hoodie and capris?” 

He gestures at her, where she’s wearing older pants that only really fit since they end mid calf, and she’s also wearing her only clean hoodie that ends mid forearm, and she doesn’t even have the hood up. The bottom is a little ragged, showing her stomach off. But honestly, she looks buff as hell, and most of her old clothing doesn’t fit. She can’t feel cold, and only barely warmth, so she’ll wear whatever she wants.

She shrugs, “What? Like it’s cold.” She demonstrates by breathing out, and her breath isn’t even visible.

Velocity stares at her, then lets out a slow exhaled sigh. In contrast, he looks like he’s trying to mimic a dragon in a way Alastor and her do not. “It is snowing.”

She looks at Alastor, “Does that matter?”

Alastor shrugs expressively, closing his eyes, hands next to his shoulder, palms up, “Not that I can tell. In fact, it is _snow_ matter at all!”

She hides her face in her hands, shaking her head as Alastor laughs. Peeking through her fingers, she looks at the hero, “Is there something you wanted, Velocity?”

“We got a call about you two being here. If we’d known it was the both of you, we would have left it be. It’s just that being told about two unknown parahumans….”

She snorts, crossing her arms, “And I’m guessing that to know, we’d need to contact you and tell us when we go anywhere at all?”

“You could join the Wards, and-”

“Absolutely not!” Alastor interjects. “Demons aren’t _heroes_ , young man.”

Velocity focuses on Taylor, “I’m just saying, it isn't like it would hurt to join. You’re a powerful parahuman, and the gangs like to recruit independents. You being an out cape doesn’t help that, either. You need the ability to keep your family safe, and the PRT will be able to help more effectively if you join.”

“Alastor, I think we’re done.” She stands up, “Let’s pack things away and head home.” Turning to Velocity, she says, a little stiffly, “Thank you for your concern, but maybe I’d have been more inclined to join if the PRT hadn’t just shown up at my house directly after I triggered in the attempt to push me to join.”

“That was us taking your father-”

“Yes. I know what it was.” She walks over to Alastor, “Come on, let’s go home.”

He snaps his fingers, making the chairs disappear, and the camera hurriedly trots over to them. She picks it up as he puts his hand on her shoulder, and they land in the backyard. She smiles at him, and he says, “Oh, Taylor!”

She has a sinking feeling, “Yes?”

“What do you call a portrait painted in blood?”

“Wh-what?”

“Fine _artery_!” 

She whimpers softly, hiding her face in his chest, “You’re _terrible_!”

He just laughs at her, and it rings through the yard.

\--

Talor lounges in the living room chair, drawing in her new tablet absently as the television plays the news. Alastor is laying on the couch, watching it with far more intent than her. When the door opens, they both look over as her dad walks in. He stares at them both, shaking as he closes the door and hands up his coat, “What’s the heat like in here? My glasses aren't even fogging up.”

“I… don’t know?” She shares a glance with Alastor, shrugging as her father moves to the thermostat.

Her dad curses softly, “Damn, it’s set at forty!” He taps it up, and she can hear the heater starting up, the vents starting to blow. “There. I put it at sixty-five.” He looks at her, “Talor, would you _please_ put on socks, longer pants, and a sweater or something? Looking at you makes me cold.” He pauses, “Colder, anyway. I’m freezing.” He shivers a bit, as if to demonstrate. 

She tilts her head, “But I’m fine?”

He crosses his arms, “Taylor, _please_? At least Alastor is dressed sensibly warm.” He gestures at the demon, wearing his full suit including his vest and shoes.

Alastor laughs softly, “Yes, do be kind to your father, my dear. Go get on warmer clothing, and perhaps bring him a blanket. I’ll make him some warm coffee as he sits in his chair.”

Setting her tablet down on the table, she stands up, stretching, “Alright. Any specific blanket?”

“Just a warm one.”

She nods, hugging her father as she passes him while walking towards the stairs. She makes sure to change first, even tugging on her warmest looking socks, and slipping on a pair of shoes so she won’t accidentally fall from lack of traction. She grabs the blanket she typically uses in winter, but now doesn’t need, and heads downstairs with it. She settles it over her father’s shoulders, “Better?”

He nods, relaxing a little, “Thanks.” He shivers again, “Could you check what the temperature is right now?”

She wanders over to look, and says, “About forty-five?”

Her father fluffs the blanket, “And telling you to turn it up more won’t make it any warmer. I’m still tempted to ask you to, anyway.”

Alastor walks in with a tray carrying three steaming mugs. He sets it on the table, nudging the tablet a little to get more room, and hands one of the cups to her father. “Here, Danny. This should warm you up.” 

“Thank you, Alastor.” Her father smiles at the demon, then sips on the coffee. “You really do make the best cup, once I showed you how to use the machine.”

Alastor looks pleased, taking his own cup as Taylor sits back down. She snags her cup, huffing a little, “Couldn't get me tea?”

“It isn’t like you need any.”

She sticks her tongue out at him, but sips on it before setting it down and working on her picture. Mostly, she’s illustrating for the video, since that seems like the best idea. She’s trying to figure out how best to show off how Alastor is using the fact that he’s a deer demon in that no eye pun, but the most she has is just text pointing out that’s what he is.

Once she has everything all drawn up, she saves it and opens up the editing software. She frowns as the camera pans from them in the seats to Velocity, but she mostly chalks that up to it being a demonic camera that can walk on the tripod. 

Her father asks, “So, have you finished your homework?”

She blinks, “I did… I think? Did I?” Frowning, she mentally checks what is done, only to hop to her feet, “No! I forgot!” She hurriedly heads up the stairs, getting back to her room and gathering up her partially completed homework. 

As she heads down, she hears Alastor saying, “Oh, don’t blame her, Danny. She only didn’t because I distracted her.”

“It’s just that part of the reason why she can even get in, is because she’d do well in class. I know you’re not even a student there, and just allowed in because you’re part of her power, but I don’t want her going back to Winslow.”

“Neither of us do. She’s a good kid, and she’ll get it done. But everyone must have a passion for something, and she looked genuinely excited to try editing things.”

“I’m not going to stop her from having fun,” her dad says with dry amusement. “Just make sure she has her homework done. When she does, she can do whatever she wants. She’ll just enjoy her weekend more without it hanging over her head.”

She steps down a little more loudly, but it is clear they don’t actually care if she can hear, since Alastor says, “I suppose she will. I’ll be certain not to distract her before she’s done, then.”

Setting the homework on the coffee table, she sits back in her chair, and settles in to work on it while Alastor and her father are watching the news. It feels warm and comfortable, like being in a family again.

\--

Alastor lounges in his seat, watching Taylor and Danny quietly. Sipping on his coffee, he picks up Taylor’s tablet, flipping through it absently. Taylor just rolls her eyes at him, but keeps working on her homework. From what he can tell, the film looks good. It is mostly just shots of them talking a bit, an intro at the beginning to explain things, and an outro at the end. Everything he understands from working in radio already, and he can’t help but feel pleased at her art with it all. 

He feels a bit of warmness in his chest. It seems he _does_ still have paternal feelings. Of course, his original plans on ruling hell through Lucifer’s kid won’t be coming to fruition now, but that’s just fine. He’s on Earth now, the land of the living. What’s the point in ruling hell, when he can rule this place, instead?

It isn’t how he remembers the place, and seems to be different from what the new souls told him about. But that’s not a bad thing, not when it seems like no one knows who he was. He crosses his legs, flipping to the internet browsing program, and absently does a search for who he once was. Nothing comes up at all, yet again. 

He closes the search, and returns to her editing program, making sure everything is correct. It seems to be, so he sets it back down. 

Oh, yes. Things are certainly working out for him. All he needs to do is convince Taylor to let him go out and do things when she’s in school. He knows that she is keeping him close out of fear of something happening. He’s fairly certain that ‘something’ is a mix of her worrying that one of the other students harassing her, and him wandering off on his own and killing someone.

The first fear is irrational, since she scares the other children well enough on her own. The second, however, is far more grounded in reality. Now that there _are_ humans, he is sorely tempted to return to his old habits. He knows he shouldn’t, not until he’s better established, but he is so very tempted.

Perhaps later, when Taylor loosens his leash. For now, he will just… enjoy his time out of the clogged air of Hell, and bide his time. He can wait, and let Taylor get used to him existing. Danny seems pleased he’s here, at least. Taylor, that job he has, and moping in sorrow about his dead wife are about all that Danny cares about. 

And as that happens, Alastor can just make Taylor more dependent upon him. He’s even doing that blasted school work when he must. He also doesn’t do more than threaten bodily harm to those who touch him. He’s not sure he’ll be able to limit himself to that if a teacher lays a hand on him, but from what he can tell teachers just don’t touch students at all now.

He needs to look up what that’s about, but that can be something for a later time. 

He settles a little more comfortably in his seat, and smiles a little brighter at the news. Truly, video is the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all of this fic for now. Not sure what I'll upload next week. We'll see, I guess.


End file.
